Thesis: To consider what the chance intersection of ideal beauty and intellectual confusion would mean in determining the fate of Earth. Phase 1: While touring San Francisco, I stayed at the Sir Francis Drake. The bartenders were adequate. Phase 2: I began a blog. I learned romance might exist, but depends upon whether a man and a woman can tread the maze individually and reach its center at the exact same instant in time. Phase 3: The center comes and goes as if it were a mirage.

Friday, October 26, 2012

"Time
is standing still" and "when do we leave" not only are comments which conceivably might be made by this casual crew of seagulls gathering here, but are among the lyrics in the second
song posted today. That song is "Stargazer." The music is fantastic; the performance is pure fun; the video
is a tiny masterpiece. Talent is where you find it. The first song posted is "Street
of Dreams." Both songs are by the band Rainbow, although the vocalist in the first is
Joe Lynn Turner and the singer in the second is Ronnie James Dio. It seemed
like "Street of Dreams" sort of went with what I wrote, and "Stargazer" sort of went
with what I thought while I was writing what I wrote. Or thought. Or whatever.

What
if tomorrow were yesterday?

Strictly
speaking, there is a present.

You
know, in the sense of past, present and future.

But,
by the time you finish reading these words, the present will be part of the
past and gone forever.

So,
is the present more or less than the blink of an eye?

I
am not certain what I am trying to say beyond wondering if there actually is a
present. Everything is moving too quickly for the present to exist except in an
instant immeasurably impossible to realize .

I
know someone who says she lives for today. I can understand that and realize
that on the one hand, but, on the other hand, today only exists on a man-made
clock of planetary measurements. In terms of conscious life, there is only past and future.

At
the moment, I am trying to decide which one I belong to or, maybe, which one
belongs to me, because the present is a dream.

If
these questions are easy for you to answer, I do not wonder about you, but I do
worry about you.

Then,
too, I am not so sure that the past is gone forever or that the future has not already
been. Remember, I belong to the "time is like a flowing river" school of thought.

A passage in
the "Hovamol"

from
the "Poetic Edda"

recorded for posterity by
Snorri Sturluson

A
little sand has a little sea,
And small are the minds of men;
Though all men are not equal in wisdom,
Yet half-wise only are all.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Johnny Cash once sang a song in which
the lyrics went like this:"How high's the water, mama? Two
feet high and risin';"How high's the water, papa? Two feet
high and risin'."

I might imagine these Canada Geese working
their way south for the winter have been asking the same question about the
Minnesota River, except it appears to be "rising in reverse," so to
speak. Since the river bank normally reaches to the larger rocks and the tree
line, it is evident that the level of the river was considerably higher last spring
than it was when October began and this photograph was taken. Nature rules, so, "Where is the water, mama?"

The art of conducting a
conversation
Speaking as a man who, until the past few years, has seldom lived alone during his life, I am not sure why anyone would choose to do so.
When I was a boy, there always were parents and grandparents present. As a young man in college, I usually lived with three or four other young men, and even with a young wife for a while. Wives and children -- along with a couple of "almost wives" -- sort of covers my adult years until 2007. Then came another divorce and, with the exception of a few months in Poland during 2010, no company for me.
Now, since I am alone, I basically talk to myself. Sometimes, there is a two-way conversation. For a while in the latter months of 2010, I found myself using profanity -- usually several words -- in virtually every sentence I spoke when I was by myself. I spoke out loud at times; to myself at other times, but profanity was always there.
As time went on, I began to speak out loud more often while talking with myself, generally employing my version of a "foreign" or American regional accent. A southern inflection or a western drawl are my favorites. Or, I might try a German or a Norwegian brogue, sounding like many "old-timers" around here do as a result of having spoken those languages in their homes as children. For the sake of political correctness, I will stop there.
More recently, I have gone to carrying on the two-way conversations rather than simply speaking out loud. Many, if not most, are in the form of a straight man and a funny man chattering back and forth. Or, I pose a situation which requires resolution and ask myself to find one.
So, the question is, when will these habits stop or, if they do not stop, what will come next? Talking out loud to myself; including much profanity while I speak to myself; carrying on two-way conversations with myself .... what could possibly come next?
Or, the other possibility, of course, is that perhaps I will find another companion -- someone to talk with, to carry on long, wonderful conversations with .... someone to keep me in line.

Something special ....

Sort of About Me

Bachelor of Arts with a double major in English (= literature) and history (= reality). Master of Arts in literature. Once upon a time, U.S. Marine Corps = Semper Fidelis. These things pretty much explain everything there is to know about me.
Other than that, ask, if you actually are curious .... I like to drift where the current takes me within this endless sea of blogs, read what others write in their blogs, observe, learn, question and, hopefully, understand, while offering a few comments of my own along the way .... by the way, the photo of me actually is me .... was me .... will be me .... hmmmm ....

Romance, from Fram

I discoveredRomance might yet exist,but it depends uponwhether a manand a womancan tread the maze,individually,and reach its centerat the same momentin time.

The Actual Instant of Love, from Fram

I am a jealous guy, of the sort John Lennon sang about. Any man who says he is not a jealous guy either has no genuine depth of feelings for the woman he is saying it about or is a liar. I can remember very distinctly, for example, when my feelings for my wife vanished. It happened in an instant. When love vanished, so did jealousy.

Actual love happens in an instant, I believe, although it does not always seem to be that way. I am not talking about "love at first sight," but, rather, "love at first instant." This means two people might have known each other for weeks, even for years, before the "instant" occurs. It comes with a single sentence spoken by one, or a single action taken by one, that strikes the other like lightning.

Affection grows; love is born. Love also disappears in an instant, I believe, although it does not always seem to happen that way. Incidental to my point, I do not believe in "love at first sight." That is no more than simple, physical or emotional attraction, which is the cause of countless and never-ending problems.

Happiness is momentary, from Fram

When I was age eighteen, a wise, old man of twenty-six told me that happiness is a momentary thing. It might last for minutes or days or weeks or, sometimes, even for a few years. But, like life itself, happiness is a transitory thing and, like fate, it is capricious. At some point along the road, I came to realize this wise, old man had been right.

The Three Sorts of Friends ....

Though friendships differ endless in degree,The sorts, methinks, may be reduced to three.Acquaintance many, and Conquaintance few;But for Inquaintance I know only two --The friend I've mourned with, and the maid I woo!

Time retains ....

Time retainsits sacred right to meddlein each earthly affair.Still, time's unbounded powerthat makes a mountain crumble,moves seas, rotates a star,won't be enough to tearlovers apart: they aretoo naked, too embraced,too much like timid sparrows.

Old age is, in my book,the price that felons pay,so don't whine that it's steep:you'll stay young if you're good.Suffering doesn't insult the body.Death? It comes in your sleep,exactly as it should.

When it comes, you'll be dreamingthat you don't need to breathe;that breathless silence isthe music of the darkand it's part of the rhythmto vanish like a spark.

Yesterday is History ....

Yesterday is mystery --Where it is TodayWhile we shrewdly speculateFlutter both away.

Emily Dickinsonpoet"Yesterday is History"

Never the answers

The most interesting thing in the world is another human being who wonders, suffers and raises the questions that have bothered him to the last day of his life, knowing he will never get the answers.

Will Duranthistorian, philosopher, teacher

The equality of man

Those who hammer their guns into plows will plow for those who do not.

Thomas Jeffersonpresident, patriot, free thinker

The audience

Better to write for yourselfand have no publicthan to writefor the publicand have no self.

Cyril Connollywriter, editor, literary critic

I am free

I am free, no matter what rules surround me. If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; if I find them too obnoxious, I break them. I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do.Robert Heinleinscience fiction writerphilosopher

Marine Corps Forever, from Fram

To all Marines, those among the dead, those who still live, those yet to be born: Semper Fidelis, to the end of time ....

Have gun .... will travel

Once upon a time: "She said, There is no reason ...."

Time & again ....

Time .... he's waiting in the wings .... he speaks of senseless things .... but, if you could heal a broken heart, wouldn't time be out to charm you?

Voluspo 28-29

Alone I sat when the Old One sought me .... The terror of gods, and gazed in mine eyes .... "What hast thou to ask? why comest thou hither? .... Othin, I know where thine eye is hidden" .... Deep in the wide-famed well of Mimir .... Mead from the pledge of Othin each morn .... Does Mimir drink: would you know yet more? ....

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Magic Girl from Fram

I look at her face, I stare into her eyes.She is there yet, the girl from long ago.Her smile has dimmed only a slight degree,but her face shows scars from tears,a lonely expression there for all to see.

I sense her there, the girl from long ago,I know she is she, and once she was for me,but how do I know what is left inside her?Is she magic still, or has life changed her?Can a woman return, a magic girl to be?